A Collection of Drabbles
by just drifting
Summary: A number of different drabbles, all written for different occasions. Characters/Pairings include  but are not limited to : Adelle, DeWitt/Dominic, Adelle/Topher, Priya, Alpha, Echo.
1. Part One

**Title:** A Collection of Drabbles (Part 1)  
><strong>Fandom:<strong> Dollhouse  
><strong>PairingsCharacters:** Includes: Topher/Adelle, DeWitt/Dominic, Adelle  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> Up to Epitaph: Return  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Dollhouse does not belong to me.  
><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> I seem to have accumulated a number of drabbles that I don't think I've posted here specifically. They've all been written for different occassions, but most for **whedonland**. Each part contains five drabbles. Some are exactly 100 words, others are over.

* * *

><p><em>Topher, Adelle; 2x07<em>

Her hands are like ice. Emanating, he thinks, from the cold, empty place that is her heart. With steely determination she had handed over his plans, and it is without apology that she stands before him now. She is not who he thought she was.

But then, he is not who ishe/i thought he was either. Lord, he's not even who he thought he was. Everything has changed these past months; the development of a conscience weighing heavily on his brilliant mind now.

So then, maybe the ice of her hands burn in perfect harmony to the fire of his.

/

_Topher/Bennett; pre- series_

Topher thinks sometimes he's going insane. How is it possible for someone to have a crush on a person they've never met, never talked to, never even iseen/i? How is it possible for someone to be totally in love with another on the basis of their work alone—ground-breaking, genius work though it is.

But that's Bennett Halverson. The DC programmer, just as Topher is the LA programmer. And if Topher begins to think of just how perfect they are for each other in every way, well, who could blame him. It's Bennett Halverson.

If only he weren't a dude.

/

_Adelle; Spy in the House of Love_

Adelle returns to perfectly clean office. One would be hard-pressed to find anything amiss here. No client would think to imagine anything was wrong, that anything was out of place: that, just hours ago, everything had gone to hell.

But Adelle is no client. She works in this room every day—she sits in this chair, leans on this desk. She drinks from these bottles and looks out these windows.

Just like her office, she shows no outward signs of distress. But this place has seen devastation today, and she is not as unaffected as she makes out to be.

/

_Adelle; Epitaph 2_

The new world begins on a sunny day. It is the type of clichéd symbolism she can live with. The bomb goes off, Topher with it, and the sky clears of every cloud. The blue shines down upon them. It is peaceful up there, in the sky. Ironic, how it was from the sky that the signal first arrived. It came screaming from the Heavens, and the land began to burn below.

It burns still now, despite the clear sky. It makes her wonder just how much has really changed, and if Topher's sacrifice was worth it.

She hopes so.

/

_Adelle, Topher; Epitaph One_

There are dreams, nightmares. She has them too, he knows. He wakes sometimes and she's twisting and turning, her mind a prison she can't escape. He doesn't ask her about them. She won't tell him anyway; won't admit to them. She's stronger than he is. She values her pride more. She won't allow herself the escape, the comfort of voicing her fears. They talk about his instead, and her voice is a soothing lilt that helps the drive away the waking terror. Her arms around him aren't a trap; they're a comfort, a link back home, to love and happiness.

/


	2. Part Two

**Title:** A Collection of Drabbles (Part 1)  
><strong>Fandom:<strong> Dollhouse  
><strong>PairingsCharacters:** Includes: Topher/Adelle, DeWitt/Dominic, Adelle  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> Up to Epitaph: Return  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Dollhouse does not belong to me.  
><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> I seem to have accumulated a number of drabbles that I don't think I've posted here specifically. They've all been written for different occassions, but most for **whedonland**. Each part contains five drabbles. Some are exactly 100 words, others are over.

* * *

><p><em>Topher, Adelle; 2x07<em>

Her hands are like ice. Emanating, he thinks, from the cold, empty place that is her heart. With steely determination she had handed over his plans, and it is without apology that she stands before him now. She is not who he thought she was.

But then, he is not who ishe/i thought he was either. Lord, he's not even who he thought he was. Everything has changed these past months; the development of a conscience weighing heavily on his brilliant mind now.

So then, maybe the ice of her hands burn in perfect harmony to the fire of his.

/

_Topher/Bennett; pre- series_

Topher thinks sometimes he's going insane. How is it possible for someone to have a crush on a person they've never met, never talked to, never even iseen/i? How is it possible for someone to be totally in love with another on the basis of their work alone—ground-breaking, genius work though it is.

But that's Bennett Halverson. The DC programmer, just as Topher is the LA programmer. And if Topher begins to think of just how perfect they are for each other in every way, well, who could blame him. It's Bennett Halverson.

If only he weren't a dude.

/

_Adelle; Spy in the House of Love_

Adelle returns to perfectly clean office. One would be hard-pressed to find anything amiss here. No client would think to imagine anything was wrong, that anything was out of place: that, just hours ago, everything had gone to hell.

But Adelle is no client. She works in this room every day—she sits in this chair, leans on this desk. She drinks from these bottles and looks out these windows.

Just like her office, she shows no outward signs of distress. But this place has seen devastation today, and she is not as unaffected as she makes out to be.

/

_Adelle; Epitaph 2_

The new world begins on a sunny day. It is the type of clichéd symbolism she can live with. The bomb goes off, Topher with it, and the sky clears of every cloud. The blue shines down upon them. It is peaceful up there, in the sky. Ironic, how it was from the sky that the signal first arrived. It came screaming from the Heavens, and the land began to burn below.

It burns still now, despite the clear sky. It makes her wonder just how much has really changed, and if Topher's sacrifice was worth it.

She hopes so.

/

_Adelle, Topher; Epitaph One_

There are dreams, nightmares. She has them too, he knows. He wakes sometimes and she's twisting and turning, her mind a prison she can't escape. He doesn't ask her about them. She won't tell him anyway; won't admit to them. She's stronger than he is. She values her pride more. She won't allow herself the escape, the comfort of voicing her fears. They talk about his instead, and her voice is a soothing lilt that helps the drive away the waking terror. Her arms around him aren't a trap; they're a comfort, a link back home, to love and happiness.

/


	3. Part Three

**Title:** A Collection of Drabbles (Part 3)  
><strong>Fandom:<strong> Dollhouse  
><strong>PairingsCharacters:** Includes: Topher/Adelle, DeWitt/Dominic, Adelle  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> Up to Epitaph: Return  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Dollhouse does not belong to me.  
><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> I seem to have accumulated a number of drabbles that I don't think I've posted here specifically. They've all been written for different occassions, but most for **whedonland**. Each part contains five drabbles. Some are exactly 100 words, others are over. 

* * *

><p><em>EchoBoyd, Post- Hollow Men_

'I loved you,' she had said. I loved you. I loved you. I loved you. I loved you. Her mind repeats it over and over again as she tosses and turns, trying to sleep. She misses him. She misses what he was. Or rather, what she thought he was. She keeps forgetting none of it was real. She misses what they had—that connection, more than just the imprint. She misses the caring hand, the guidance, the father she never had.

She remembers the feeling of his betrayal; it still cuts her inside. Caroline came into her head, and there it was, right at the forefront: the man she trusted more than anything in the world, the founder of the thing she hated most.

And yet, even with his betrayal, her mind still plays her all the good moments: Boyd finding her in the forest. Boyd fighting Paul to protect her. Boyd nurturing her, helping her grow.

She misses him, still; she loves him, still, and it kills her.

/

_Topher, Pre-series_

Topher had a family once. He had a mother and a father and even an older brother. His family had realised she was special—'gifted' they called it—very early on. From then on they'd pushed him to be the best: advanced placement classes, high school finished with at fifteen, and then it was onto the best college in the country, far away from everyone he knew and loved.

As such, Topher had never really had time for family, and he'd always regretted it. It was only after he'd joined the Dollhouse, where he was surrounded by likeminded people with no home and no family, that he realised it might actually be a blessing. The less people he loved, the less people he hurt in the long run.

/

_Chuck crossover; Dominic, Casey, Topher, Epitaph_

Topher comes running up to join them and says, a little breathless, "I didn't want to miss anything!" He's carrying a large gun that Dominic's not even sure he knows how to use, let alone Ishould/i be allowed to.

They're facing out onto a pack of butchers, about fifteen in total, gunning them down as best they can.

Casey grunts as he shoots a butcher who gets too close and Dominic hands him another clip when he drops the old one. They're silent, working efficiently side by side, until there's a crash and they both turn to see Topher fumbling with his gun.

"Reminds me of Bartowski," Casey mumbles.

"You have no idea," Dominic returns, sighing.

In an attempt to turn the attention from him and his apparent failings, Topher asks, "So, um, how do the two of you know each other again?"

"NSA," Dominic grunts.

"Old friends," Casey adds.

"Aww, isn't that sweet?" Topher grins. Dominic glares.

"Yep, definitely Bartowski," Casey says.

/

_Adelle; Pre-series_

Topher Brink is an excellent find. She congratulates herself on it often. To think that she, Adelle DeWitt, was the one who brought to the Dollhouse the person that will take it places it only dreamed of is something she will be forever proud of. It's more than that, though. Topher isn't only an employee. He's...special. Not just because of his brain, though that certainly is amazing, but because of his charm and his awkwardness. She had taken to him straight away. Topher is a person she can understand—identify with, even. She knows that Topher will be there with her, through thick and thin, and it's that thought that she keeps with her in her darkest hour.

/

_DeWitt/Dominic, Spy In The House Of Love_

She should have expected this. She knew that this job would come with betrayal and lies. But never had she suspected Mr Dominic. He was the one meant to ikeep out/i the spies, not to be one himself. He was the one meant...ito protect her/i, a voice in her head whispers.

It has been three days since the reveal, and it still all seems quite surreal. Mr Langton comes in to greet her in the morning, and she finds herself confused for just a moment, wondering why on earth he's in her office and not with Echo.

She wonders if she'll ever get used to it. If, come time, she will forget his face and the feel of his presence beside her and the hurt and absolute heartbreak his betrayal had caused her. It's something, when she's lying alone at night that she wishes for desperately. But, come morning, sometimes she's not so sure she wants to forget. Sometimes all she wants to do is remember.

/


	4. Part Four

**Title:** A Collection of Drabbles (Part 4)  
><strong>Fandom:<strong> Dollhouse  
><strong>PairingsCharacters:** Includes: Topher/Adelle, DeWitt/Dominic, Adelle  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> Up to Epitaph: Return  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Dollhouse does not belong to me.  
><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> I seem to have accumulated a number of drabbles that I don't think I've posted here specifically. They've all been written for different occassions, but most for **whedonland**. Each part contains five drabbles. Some are exactly 100 words, others are over.

* * *

><p><em>Adelle, Epitaph<em>

Adelle finds a photo when she's cleaning out her office one day. It's tucked into the bottom of one of her draws, forgotten.

The photo is of her and Topher at some company Christmas party. Topher's got his arm thrown around her and is grinning like a maniac, while she's just smiling awkwardly.

She sighs and sits, suddenly weary. Topher looks so...alive in the picture. She'd almost forgotten how he used to be; now he's just a broken child. It's not that she resents her charge. She loves Topher. But it's day like this, where she remembers the wonderful man he used to be, that she wishes so desperately for nothing to have changed.

/

_Adelle, Season 2_

She drinks –

She feels as if she cannot stop. A single glass of whiskey turns into another, and another, and another, and she downs them all as if they were her first.

She feels like she's drowning, overcome by a surging sea—crashing waves and unforgiving tides. She's being pulled under, tossed and turned, until she cannot breathe and she falls asleep in a drunken stupor.

She feels numb. There is nothing. No pain, no fear, no humiliation or regret or doubt or any other emotion that any good Head of House should not be feeling. When she feels numb, she can pretend that she is not weak. She can pretend that she is not broken, that she is not slipping, that this House—everything she lives for—is not being taken away from her.

She drinks –

– because she fears she has no other option.

/

_Adelle and Topher, Epitaph_

When Topher's good days last a long time, Adelle sometimes forgets there are even bad days to begin with. On his good days, Topher acts just about normal. He leaves his pod to visit his lab and fiddle around with the tech. He chats with her, with Saunders, with the actives, just as he would have before.

It pleases Adelle to see Topher on his good days; so happy, free from guilt. It reminds her of what used to be. Of how he used to be and the wonderful man he was.

But at the same time, the good days scare her as well. Because she knows that they can't last, and she knows it'll only break her heart again and again to see Topher crying and broken when she can remember so clearly what he could be.

/

_Adelle, Dominic, Pre-Series_

"It's not safe here, Ms DeWitt," Mr Dominic is saying and all she can think is iAlphaAlphaAlphaAlpha/i. There's screaming going on downstairs, and why isn't Mr Dominic down there helping them? Except he's just standing there, watching her with concern, and she realises she hasn't actually said anything since he stopped talking. Best fix that.

"Nonsense, Mr Dominic. This is my House and I intend to stay here to make sure it still stands tomorrow." She gives him a worn out smile. "Now go do your job."

"Yes ma'am." He nods.

Once he's gone, she falls into her chair, weary.

/

_Alpha_

He picks them off one by one, little glass dolls that smash into thousands of tiny little pieces. They don't even put up a fight, and his knife makes quick work of their delicate, beautiful faces. They're broken on the inside, all of them, despite how the Dollhouse likes to convince them otherwise, so why not make them broken on the outside as well? Then everyone will know. Then everyone will know the lies the Dollhouse tells its people, both clients and employees alike. He'll break them, smash them and destroy them, and then he'll take his Echo and they'll be gone from this nightmare.

/


	5. Part Five

**Title:** A Collection of Drabbles (Part 5)  
><strong>Fandom:<strong> Dollhouse  
><strong>PairingsCharacters:** Includes: Topher/Adelle, DeWitt/Dominic, Adelle  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> Up to Epitaph: Return  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Dollhouse does not belong to me.  
><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> I seem to have accumulated a number of drabbles that I don't think I've posted here specifically. They've all been written for different occassions, but most for **whedonland**. Each part contains five drabbles. Some are exactly 100 words, others are over.

* * *

><p><em>Topher, Adelle, Epitaph 2<em>

'You're not coming back,' she realises, and Adelle feels like her heart's breaking into pieces, crumbling to the floor along with the dreams of the two of them side by side. iTopher!/i her mind screams. She wants to cry, to rave, to lock him up and refuse to let him go. She can't let him go, not when she just got him back. It's not fair.

But that's the point, she supposes. None of this is fair. And this is the price they will pay for their sins. He will die and she... she will struggle on without him. This is their reward.

/

_DeWitt/Dominic, Pre-/During-Series_

They're the couple everyone wants to be. Striding through the halls of the Dollhouse side by side, arms swinging (occasionally touching), awesome clothes and matching expressions of scorn and detachment. There's this aura around them; they seem to just exude cool.

Sometimes he leans in too close to hear what she's saying when he could easily be a few inches back. Sometimes she laughs when he cracks a joke, and her eyes light up as she watches him.

Judith thinks they might just be the most perfect thing that ever existed, though she might be a bit biased. Still, there's something about DeWitt and Dominic that, she thinks, anyone would see that they're meant to be.

/

_Dominic, Epitaph_

He screams, just to hear the sound escape his throat. Just to prove he's still alive. He's still here. He's still fighting. And right now there's half a dozen butchers wanting to take a bite out of him. He jumps up onto a ledge and empties a cartridge into the air for the thrill of it. He should be worrying about the limited amount of ammo they have left or about the butchers he should be aiming at but he's so high right now he doesn't give a fuck.

He jumps off the ledge, shouts again, and then takes off through the trees. The butchers give chase, but they're thick and awkward, lumbering along. He runs, his blood pumping in his veins and pounding in his ears. He feels alive. He feels more alive than he has in years. He speeds up, zipping through the trees. The butchers have long fallen behind. He's running just for himself now. Just for himself and the exhilaration of being free.


End file.
